Three From Heaven, Three From Hell
by claire sorrentino
Summary: Update: Story 3 - Sephiroth babysits! The Goddess Etro from Gran Pulse FFXIII decides to meddle in the affairs of the Planet FFVII . In her infinite wisdom, she give Zack, Aeris, Cissnei, Angeal, Genesis . . . and yes, Sephiroth, a second chance at life. The catch, until they discover peace, they'll be randomly thrown around the FF universe.
1. Story One: Etro's Mercy: FFVII

**Summary**: The Goddess Etro from Gran Pulse (FFXIII) decides to meddle in the affairs of the Planet (FFVII). In her infinite wisdom, she give Zack, Aeris, Cissnei, Angeal, Genesis . . . and yes, Sephiroth, a second chance at life. The catch, until they discover peace, they'll be randomly thrown around the FF universe.

**Author's Note**: This story will be in the form of interrelated short stories set in various FF worlds. Each will advance the overall storyline. I have the basic plan in my head, but requests for particular encounters are acceptable.

Incidentally, I just played Crisis Core after playing Final Fantasy XIII-2. And the references to the 'goddess' in both were what triggered this little idea.

**Final Fantasy Worlds included:** 7, 8, 10, 12, & 13.

Please read & review.

**Three from Heaven, Three from Hell**

**Story One: Etro's Mercy**

She likes to meddle. That's how it all started and ended for the goddess Etro. It started with Caius. He'd shown such devotion to the seeress that Etro's chaotic heart had broken at their eventual parting. So she gave him her heart and immortality. That way he could be the seeress's eternal guardian. Perfect plan. Only it backfired. Caius went insane, watching the one he loved die over and over and over again. The seeress was blessed to see the entire timeline, but when things changed, well, the visions were overwhelming and the poor girl would die. Etro always took mercy and let her be reborn the same as before, so she honestly didn't see what Caius's hangup was.

And she even thought that he was okay with everything. Then she took mercy on a group of l'cie who risked everything to free humanity from fal'cie rule. She was particularly proud of that one. She'd saved from certain death six brave humans. Except that act had contorted the timeline and the seeress started dying like crazy. That made Caius more bat-shit crazy. And it culminated in his plan to kill her, Etro, the goddess.

She never imagined he'd get so close, but when her heart in his chest stopped beating, she was blown away. And when she finally yanked her particles together, she was in a field of beautiful, heavenly flowers. And she wasn't alone. There was a man with spiky black hair and eyes the color of an autumn sky. He was doing what appeared to be squats, facial expression lost in thought. He didn't appear to recognize her arrival.

She frolicked over to him, curious to see what he was doing. Standing beside him, she tried a few squats. They hurt her legs. Hmmm. Humans were so odd. "Hellloooooo?" she called out.

"Aeris?" he asked, glancing around. When he spotted her he frowned. "You're not Aeris."

"Actually, I'm Etro," she said. "I'm the goddess."

"Oh. Okay. Zack Fair," he said. He seemed less than impressed with her proclamation than she expected. "What are you doing here? Is there a LOVELESS convention or something?"

"I was killed," she said. "Well, since I'm a goddess I can't really die, but I think I came pretty darn close." She giggled. "Silly Caius, I'm going to have words with him when I get back."

"Riiiight . . ." Zack said. He returned to his squats.

"So . . ." Etro said. "I'm wondering what your story is. You know everyone has to have one."

"No story. Just dead," he said. "Story over."

"I see," Etro said. But she really didn't. So she reached out and touched him. His skin was translucent and cool. When she touched him, she got snippets of his life, like watching a movie on super-fast-forward. He was in a small village, doing squats, dreaming of being in SOLDIER, of being a hero. Then he was in a life-forsaken city, training. A man with dark hair took him under his wing, trained him. There were many battles and to Etro's delight he was heroic. He threw himself at his enemies, defeating them with ease and yet still capable of showing mercy and empathy.

Then there was the girl. A pretty little thing with green eyes, brown hair, and a sweet smile. Etro saw their relationship blooming. It made her happy. Etro loved happy endings more than anything. His memories skipped to another battle. Standing in a wasteland. Standing against him was an entire army. "Boy oh boy, the price to freedom sure is high," he said. Then charged forward. By the end, he'd dwindled the numbers to three. Three nameless army guys with guns. They shot him. Over and over and over. And he never saw his beautiful girl again. She was just gone, stolen from him.

Etro let go, swearing.

"Hey, you alright?" Zack asked.

She shook her head. "You died," she sniffled. "You were going to your girl and you died. After all that. It isn't fair."

He almost smiled. "It happens. Anyway, that was a long time ago –"

"No. No no no no!" Etro stomped her foot for emphasis. "It isn't okay. And I, Etro the goddess, will make it okay."

Zack quirked an eyebrow at her. Clearly he didn't know her power. She reached out, touching him. "This will be your chance, Zack Fair. Your chance to get back with your girl."

"She died –" he started to explain, but then Etro's power hit him full on. His head was flung back, skin glowing with hot silver light. His eyes blazed like liquid fire, mouth open in a silent O of surprise. Etro watched him start to dissolve and was completely surprised when someone kicked her to the ground.

She disappeared and reappeared behind her assailant. "What are you doing?" she asked, unable to hide the hurt.

A tall, muscular man whipped around, blue eyes narrowing. "What did you do to Zack?" he demanded.

Etro stuck her tongue out at him. She didn't have to explain herself.

The man tried to stop Zack from vanishing, but Etro had already done her spell. He was on to his Second Chance at life. She meant for him to enjoy it. And she did understand that his girl was dead. But seriously, she was going to rescue her too.

Someone stuck a red rapier through her.

"Ouch," she said, grateful that she'd loaned her heart to Caius. That could have seriously messed her up otherwise. "How dare you poke me like a pin cushion?" she demanded. "I am the goddess Etro and –"

"You're not the goddess," the rapier wielder snapped. "The goddess isn't real. It is just a play . . . a book of poems. An ideal. I have lost faith in you, goddess."

"Eck!" Etro squawked. She spun around, turning intangible to avoid the sword. Then she hugged him. "You poor faithless creature. I'm sorry I didn't help you."

The other guy hit her again, sending her flying. She got up, confused. "Okay, so what is the deal with you two anyway? I've introduced myself and the two of you haven't."

The dark haired one looked pretty murderous. "Angeal Hewley. That guy you just . . . " he motioned to where Zack had been standing . . . . "he was my friend."

"Oh," Etro said, enlightenment dawning on her. "Why didn't you say so, silly Angeal?"

The other man, the rapier wielder, scowled. "He isn't 'silly' Angeal. If anything he's overly serious. And you just disintegrated his puppy."

"Puppy?" Etro asked. "Well, nevermind. Let me just see what your story is Angeal." She appeared behind him, catching his wrists. The rapier guy grabbed her. She got their memories together. Angeal grew up poor. He joined SOLDIER because Genesis, the rapier guy, joined. They were friends. When he joined SOLDIER, he father spent a lot of money getting him an impressive sword: Buster. He carried it as a symbol of his family's honor. Only he was the only one in his family with honor. His mother had experimented on him – implanting him with alien cells. Then, when the Degradation started, she'd killed herself rather than helping him deal with it. Monster. She'd called him monster and he'd never shaken it. Mothers could be so cruel. He had no cure. No salvation from the pain wracking his body. He'd aged decades in months. But he never did lose his honor. Instead he forced Zack to kill him, destroying all viable samples and thwarting some stupid fat guy. So tragic! Etro's heart broke.

And Genesis, the wealthy man's son. He tried so hard to be perfect. A hero. His dream was to meet Sephiroth (whoever the hell that was) and be friends with him. She could see his trials through SOLDIER, making the other boy recognize him as worthy. And then, the increasing bitterness at Sephiroth's assumed greatness. Genesis trained so hard – tried so hard. Etro imagined he would have beat his rival if not for Degradation. Because he'd been experimented on too! Unlike Angeal, he did not go quietly into the night. He raged like a tempest, fighting until his last breath against Degradation and those who'd inflicted him. She saw his last battle with Zack. Saw his capture by Deep Ground. Saw the horrors they'd inflicted on him. And her heart broke again.

It honestly couldn't hurt anything to give the two of them another chance. Seriously. They needed it. So she changed her touch to one of sending. And their skin infused like Zack's had. And they vanished from the field.

Etro jumped in the air, clicking her heels together. She was sooooo cooool! Honestly. What would these people do without her? Now all she had to do was find Aeris and make sure she got to Zack. Easy.

Aeris was in a cold dark place. A cave deep in the Northern Crater. She was talking to the Sephiroth guy. Genesis's friend and rival. Etro crept in to eavesdrop.

Aeris held a handful of lilies. "Hello, Sephiroth," she said. "All alone?"

He sneered, turning his entire body away from her.

"Kadaj, Loz, and Yazoo . . . they all moved on, you know."

"Weak puppets," he said, voice barely audible. "Leave me Cetra or I'll –"

"You'll what? Kill me again? I wouldn't mind if it would bring you some peace."

He didn't respond.

Aeris started humming softly.

"Stop that."

She paused. "You know, Zack says you're a lost cause."

"Zack the Puppy," Sephiroth mused. "Like I care what he says. He is nothing. A flea. A minor, dead inconvenience." He smirked. "I should know. I killed him."

Aeris shook her head sadly. "No, Sephiroth, you didn't. The army did. Zack . . . told me after I asked enough times."

Sephiroth didn't respond.

Etro got bored spying and popped up. "Hullo, I'm Etro." She paused, then added, "the goddess. I'm here to return you to life, Aeris."

Aeris looked horrified at the notion. "No, you can't. That's not how it works."

Etro looked dubious. "Sure it is. I can do it. I've already done it to a couple other people." She didn't say "Zack" because she wanted it to be a surprise when Aeris woke up with him and they were both alive again. She lunged forward, fully intending to touch the Cetra girl and blast her into her second chance.

Aeris dodged.

"Now hold on a second," Etro said, pouncing again.

Aeris dodged. "No, you hold on. Can't you see that I'm the only thing keeping Sephiroth from escaping as a wraith-like spirit into physical world?"

Etro paused, checked the situation out. "Well sure, but it really isn't nice to confine people like that. I'm sure he'll be fine without you." She lunged again and Aeris dodged again. "Seriously, I need to give you a second chance. The gift of the goddess is not easily refused."

But Aeris kept dodging. Etro got pissed. "Stupid little girl, don't you want the gift?"

"No!" Aeris snapped. "As long as Sephiroth is here, I won't go."

Etro considered that. She was a wise goddess, capable of highly advanced thoughts. "Okay," she said. And without hesitation, she reached out and touched Sephiroth. He was hot to the touch. She checked him over and saw that he had someone else – a parasite entity locked onto his consciousness, whispering in his ear. She couldn't send that back with him. It would make his second chance harder. So she separated the two and he vanished in a cloud of white light.

Aeris screamed something that could have been "no" but was probably closer to "go." Silly girl, she must have been afraid that if Etro didn't move fast she wouldn't get her second chance. She popped out of existence and then back into existence behind the girl. "Haha! I got you!" she crowed. "The game's over and I win." Her power flowed into Aeris. The young girl vanished.

Etro looked around the cave, spotting Jenova the parasite. She flinched away. "Ugly." She decided to return to the field of flowers before trying to return to her own realm.

When she appeared, there was a girl there. Wearing a black suit, red-brown hair and an angel's face. The girl eyed Etro warily.

"Are you looking for someone?" Etro asked.

The girl shook her head, the movement barely perceptible.

Etro glanced around. "Well, do you know who I am?"

"No."

"Etro the goddess." Again, nobody seemed impressed. "What's your story?" she asked the girl. "You a whatchmacallit?"

"Excuse me?"

"A crossdresser."

"No . . ."

"Oh, then what are you?"

The girl pursed her lips, but didn't seem the slightest bit interested in answering.

Etro, ever impatient, did her ole touch of knowledge. The snippets she got broke her heart. The girl had been born in an orphanage. She was taken and trained by ShinRa from a young age, trusting no one. But one day she'd met Zack Fair. And somehow the girl who knew love as nothing more than a word had fallen and fallen hard. But she'd never said a word. She'd stood by and let Aeris take Zack for herself. But Cissnei had tried so hard to save Zack. She wanted to tell him her real name . . .

Etro squeed. No way was she going to let love go unrequited. She touched the girl again, sending her off to join the Second Chance. Then she sighed with contentment. This Planet wasn't so bad. She could really get used to it. So many lost souls in need of her divine help. And this time she wasn't separated by the boundaries of Vahalla. She was perfectly –

Something green and water like (or was it smokelike) wrapped around her. Etro felt herself being lifted from the field of flowers and flung far, far away. Clearly the Planet's Lifestream didn't like her meddling. But honestly, she was just trying to help.


	2. Story Two: Tuesday: FFVII

**Author's Note: **Story 2 is from Tseng's POV. I love Tseng, but I've always been nervous to write him. Let me know what you think.

**Story Two: Tuesday **

Tuesdays are the most boring day on the Planet. Nothing exciting ever happens. Tseng knots his tie in the semi-darkness of the morning, fingers deftly tying the familiar noose. He buttons all the buttons on his impeccable black suit. He straightens his already ruler-straight black hair with a fine-tooth comb. He flips his phone open, checking for any messages that might have escaped his fox-like hearing. None. Good. That means it'll probably be another boring Tuesday.

Of course, he isn't a gambling man. He likes the added comfort of a 9 mm pistol, fully loaded. Nothing fancy or flashy like the big guns Vincent Valentine and Rufus ShinRa favor. Something subtle and black that will kill just as effectively so long as he uses armor piercing rounds. He always uses armor piercing rounds.

He locks the door, slipping like a wraith into the busy Edge Streets. Those that notice him give him wide berth. Even now, years after ShinRa's pinnacle of power, people know to avoid those in blue suits. Turks are like bullets, harmless looking until one is speeding toward you with intent to kill or maim. The distance doesn't bother Tseng. In fact, it amuses him most of the time. He knows that there are more deadly things out there than a single Turk with a gun.

Besides, it's Tuesday and nothing exciting ever happens.

At the office he pours his first cup of coffee. No doubt Elena came in early to make sure it was brewed when he arrived. He sips the bitter liquid without adding anything to take the edge off. It is stronger than usual. He hasn't tasted coffee like this since . . . he pauses, meticulous mind ticking off dates. The last time he tasted this coffee was in the days before he made Director of the Turks.

Tseng does not believe in coincidence. He sets the cup down, briefly checking to make sure his gun is where he holstered it. He narrows the days down further. Six days before his ascension in the ranks. Ironically it had been a Tuesday. He pictures the day. Walking into the office. A young woman was in the kitchenette. Shoulder length coppery hair curling in ringlets. Her black suit accented her hourglass figure. Her codename was Cissnei. She turned, brown eyes sparkling. Then the news came through that a specimen escaped in Nibelhiem. Everyone was deployed.

He exhales softly. It couldn't be Cissnei because Cissnei is dead. He knows it isn't just one of those "reported dead" reports that tended to come up in ShinRa. He'd been there when she died.

Maybe it's a fluke. Elena's coffee never tastes the same two days in a row. He heads to his office, leaving his coffee cup on the table. He can't stand the memories because they're all mixed up. Did he care for Cissnei? As something more than a Turk? He never had to answer that question just like he never had to decide if he loved Aeris. Death took that option away from him.

In his office he starts on the paperwork. It is the lifeblood of a Turk. Sometimes Reno complains that his paperwork has paperwork. Tseng never complains. Just reviews reports and makes recommendations. These days he serves a triple role as Director of the Turks, Director of Development, and Rufus ShinRa's personal advisor/bodyguard.

Someone raps at the door. He recognizes the knock instantly. The soft rap of a single knuckle against the bulletproof glass door. "Cissnei . . ." he hisses. It still cannot be her. She's still dead. The only logical explanation he can come up with is that her knock, her coffee . . . both are in his head. Somehow the stress of his life caught up with him and left him insane. It is impossible to tell with her outside and him behind his mountain of paperwork. He signs a helicopter repair order and moves it into the completed pile. Licks his lips once, adrenaline pumping. "Enter."

She opens the door, steps in, footfall light and hesitant. "Tseng . . ."

"Cissnei," he answers, leaning back. The woman looks like his long-lost co-worker. The same heart-shaped face. She sounds the same too, voice delicate and soft like an angel. She looks flushed though, like she doesn't know what to say. That isn't like her. The Cissnei in his mind is almost always passively assertive.

"Sir, I know that . . ." She licks her lips. "I have something terrible to tell you. A report. About Genesis."

"Genesis?"

"Rhapsodes," she confirms. "And not only him . . . Angeal Hewley and Sephiroth."

Tseng is confused. "What about them, Cissnei?" he asked, her name slipping from between clenched teeth.

"They are . . . alive, sir."

"No."

She lifts her chin, almost defiantly. Cissnei is not passive. She just acts it very well. "Sir, I saw them with my own eyes. I . . . understand that this must be –"

He motions her to be quiet and answers his phone a second before it rings. He's programmed it to vibrate first, that way it always appears like he knows more than he actually does. "This is Tseng."

Reno's voice comes across the airwaves – too loud and abrasive. "Hey boss, I think we got ourselves a bit of a situation over here in Wutai." In the background, Tseng can hear the unmistakable sounds of explosions. Tuesday just got a lot more interesting. He hopes that Cissnei really is in his office because if she isn't then his ability to manage this crisis is probably already compromised.

"Explain –"

"Not sure I can," Reno answers. "I was just sipping my beer at the Happy Turtle when I heard an explosion. I ran outside and a bunch of middle aged Wutai dudes were attacking this guy." Reno pauses. "The guy looks like Genesis Rhapsodes – he's even got the red leather coat and red rapier."

Tseng lifts his eyes to meet Cissnei's. "Hold." He silences his phone so Reno can hear nothing. "Cissnei?"

"I know I died," she says. "But someone sent me back. I don't know how or why. All I know is that when I showed up I was at a beach and I wasn't alone. Sephiroth, Genesis, and Angeal were all there too . . ."

She left something out. Tseng debates leaving it alone, but he is at heart, a spy of sorts. A gatherer of information. "Who else?"

"The . . . Ancient. Aeris Gainsborough."

Tseng wants to close his eyes. He settles for breathing very deeply for a moment. Aeris and Cissnei alive? What does this mean for him? He can still hear explosions from Reno's side of the phone call. Apparently it means nothing to him. Works comes first. "Who else, Cissnei?"

She hesitates. "My last target."

"Zack Fair?"

"Yes."

"Did you speak with any of the others?"

Cissnei purses her lips. "I arrived last. When I arrived there was an argument. Sephiroth appeared to be attempting to kill the Ancient. Zack and Angeal were fighting him. Genesis snarled something about 'not wanting to get hurt over something stupid' and he . . . flew away. Then Sephiroth sprouted a wing, sir. Just one. Black, like Genesis's."

"I see."

"He said he was going to destroy 'Cloud.' The Ancient screamed something about 'Etro' and ran after him on foot. Zack went with her. I am not certain where they ended up."

"Why not?"

She looks down. "Angeal also has a wing. White, sir. He took flight, went after Sephiroth. I was distracted."

Tseng remembers that Cissnei always wanted wings. He can't understand her fascination, but he can respect it. "And so you came here? Why?"

"I'm a Turk," she says. "This is where I belong."

"You died," he says. He doesn't say how she died. But he remembers. Sweet Cissnei taking a bullet meant for him. What had she been thinking? Was it despair that drove her to do the unthinkable? Did she want to die that much? Or did she want him to live?

"I know." She folds her arms across her stomach. She doesn't volunteer more. She understands the value of silence.

Tseng doesn't actually know what to say or do. Nothing could prepare him to see her standing there. An angel without wings. Her sweet face turned to him, unreadable and fathomless. He doesn't even know if it is her or if he is simply going insane.

"Prove your identity," he says. He has no idea how she could possibly convince him. After all, he knows it is her already. He just doesn't know if anyone else can see or hear or taste her.

"What would you like to know?"

The answer comes to him. "Your name."

"Shuriken."

"Your real name."

"Cissnei?"

He shakes his head. "You once told me that you wanted to tell Zack Fair your real name. Tell me."

"Tseng –"

"Tell me."

She looks away. "It's . . ." She says something, but he can barely make it out.

"Tell me."

"St –"

He holds up a hand and picks up Line 2 on his phone. "This is Tseng."

"Boss, you're not going to believe who just crashed through the doors at 7th Heaven," Elena says. "It's Sephiroth, and he looks pissed."

"Hold." He puts her line on silence. Genesis on the rampage in Wutai. Sephiroth in Edge – just blocks away. He doesn't really have the resources to deal with both. Thankfully, Cloud will deal with Sephiroth. That leaves Wutai.

His phone rings again. "Tseng."

"It's Rude. Boss, I think I just saw Aeris – you know, the Ancient girl who Sephiroth speared. I was just leaving the Sector 5 Slums. She was on the back of Strife's motorcycle. I think I might be having a stroke or something, cuz that ain't normal. I mean, she is dead, isn't she?"

"Not currently," Tseng says. "Report to Wutai at once. Reno is going to need your help keeping the peace."

"Right . . ." Rude sounds relieved.

"I'm assuming Cloud was on his bike with Aeris?"

"Yeah."

"Heading toward Edge?"

"Breakneck speed."

"Make similar haste to Wutai. I'll send you a message with the particulars." He types a quick mission order for Reno and Rude. Nothing fancy, just telling them to maintain the peace and stop, but not kill the trouble-makers. He disconnects Reno and sends the message instead. He takes Elena off hold. "Do not engage Sephiroth. Cloud is on his way. Just try and keep the casualties to a minimum."

"Sir!" Elena shouts. She really is too loud to be a Turk. He looks from the screen to the woman standing before him.

"Sir?" Cissnei asks. Her voice is so soft.

"Your name?"

"Does it matter?"

"It does to me."

She gives him her genuine smile. It ghosts across her face like wind on water. "Stella."

"Stella?" he repeats.

But he doesn't get to go further. A blinding white light is building behind her. Tendrils of white smoke reaching out and wrapping around her like ribbons. The smoke pulls her backward. His last image is of her reaching for him. Then she is gone. As if she never interrupted his Tuesday.

His phone is ringing again. His Turks reporting in. Elena says Sephiroth is gone in a plume of white smoke. Reno says Genesis is gone. More white smoke. Tseng suspects that somewhere between Midgar and Edge, Cloud Strife is spinning Fenrir, trying to find girl in pink that was riding with her arms around him.

Stella. Cissnei's real name is Stella. He repeats it to himself like a mantra. She is gone from him again. And he still doesn't know how he feels. Stella. Her name is Stella.


	3. Story Three: The Need: FFX

**Story Three Teaser: ** Weeks after being brought back to life, Sephiroth accepts an unusual task – babysitting Wakka & Lulu's baby.

**Story Three**: _The Need_

He couldn't hear his mother anymore. The spot in his head where she'd whispered and planned with him was silent. His thoughts kept bouncing around, tripping over her absence, memories of his sterile childhood cropping up with the slightest stimuli.

Hojo was his father. The man with the narrow, face, cheeks hollowed out, nose thin, nostrils too big. Sephiroth could remember asking about his mother, the scene unfolding in his mind in living memory.

Hojo's voice high pitched, nasally voice. "Your mother? Hardly relevant." Him moving away, white lab coat flaring. Even as a child, Sephiroth's hearing was enhanced. He could hear the exhale of air through the scientist's nose, the irritated snort similar to a dual horn preparing to attack.

He figured he'd been about five. Just old enough to start understanding that his wasn't a typical childhood. He was special. "What did she look like?" he'd asked.

Hojo ignored him, but Sephiroth had seized his elbow, staring up at him. "What did my mother look like?"

He'd got one of those 'insolent child' looks. "She had long hair."

Sephiroth remembered touching his short silver hair. "Long?"

"Yes. Now on the table, I need a blood sample."

He'd sprang onto the table, landing lightly on his feet and staring down at Hojo. Staring down felt better than looking up to this man. Sephiroth prayed he'd be tall. "What was she like, Doctor? What was her name?"

Hojo scowled. "Get down."

Sephiroth dropped smoothly, liking the way the scientist flinched before prepping a needle and then inserting it. He didn't answer the questions. Irritated, Sephiroth jerked his arm back, ignoring the feel of the needle ripping from his arm. His mako enhancements would heal the cut in moments. "Her name, Hojo," he'd demanded, voice turning to ice.

Hojo skewered him with a look. "Jenova."

"Jenova? Was she pretty? Is she still alive?"

"Be quiet and hold still or I'll strap you down." Hojo sounded really serious and he'd carried the strap-you-down threat out before. The child fell silent, thinking about his mother. She was probably really beautiful and smart and strong. Maybe she was still alive. Maybe Hojo bossed her around like he bossed him around. Maybe Hojo strapped her to the table and drew blood from her.

His blood ran cold. Unacceptable. He would simply have to be even better than he was now. He was a special child. He would be the strongest. So strong that when he found her, he would be able to give her everything she wanted. And then . . . then she would love him.

And she had. But now she was gone. The room was too loud. He could hear the rustling of the leaves outside, the distant howling of wolves. And then the baby was making weird noises again. It almost sounded like someone choking on blood. Sephiroth gritted his teeth. If the stupid thing had managed to bite its tongue and was now drowning on its own blood, _he would not be held responsible_. He stalked from the far side of the circular room toward the hand-carved crib.

He peered at the child through narrowed green eyes.

There was a large bubble of spit on the corner of the thing's mouth, and when it saw Sephiroth, it giggled, legs and arms moving vigorously. The spit bubble popped, mingling with a trail of – was that drool?

Sephiroth sighed. Was this really necessary?

Abruptly the baby stopped moving, and tilted its head, listening attentively. Sephiroth snorted, almost impressed in spite of himself. Even though the child was less than a year old, it had heard Genesis stroll through the open doorframe.

Genesis coughed, unnecessarily announcing his presence. "_Infinite in mystery is the gift of the Goddess_."

"Still quoting that garbage?"

"Old habits die hard, I suppose," Genesis said. "But it is fitting. Who would have thought Angeal's puppy was telling the truth. You're babysitting."

Sephiroth didn't respond.

Genesis crossed the room, draping himself across the corner of the couch. "So you believe that girl?"

Sephiroth didn't respond.

"I never met her before . . . but you –"

"I killed her," Sephiroth cut in. The baby started crying, face turning red, eyes scrunched shut, body going rigid with impotent baby rage. Sephiroth frowned. He recognized the anger, but had no idea what could have possibly caused it. The baby didn't know Aeris. They weren't even from the same world.

"What did you do to it?" Genesis asked, moving closer and peering down at the baby.

Sephiroth shrugged.

For several minutes neither ex-SOLDIER said anything. The baby kept crying. "I think you're supposed to do something to make it stop," Genesis offered. "I don't think your 'good deed' counts if you don't actually care for the child."

That was probably true. Sephiroth reached into the crib, touching the child lightly. It quieted for a second, opening water-filled grey-blue eyes. "Stop crying," Sephiroth commanded. The baby sniffed, wrapping its tiny hands around the Silver General's fingers.

"I guess it just takes the right tone of voice to quiet a baby," Genesis said. "I always assumed it would –"

The baby started shrieking again, little fingers tightening like a mini-vice. This time it wouldn't be silenced no matter what Sephiroth said.

"Maybe you should bring it back to its father," Genesis suggested. "He's down at the beach with his blitzball students."

More than anything Sephiroth wanted to agree. Well, more than almost anything. There were several problems with just returning the brat to his father. First, Zack was at the beach learning how to play blitzball. And if he was there, then Aeris would be there too. He could almost imagine her green eyes, passing judgment on him once again. He didn't need her damn pity.

And more than that, he needed to get back to the Planet. How was he supposed to destroy Cloud and avenge his mother if every couple of days he was thrown from one world to another? The first couple of times it had happened, he hadn't known what to think. He fought Genesis. He tried to kill Aeris. He stabbed the girl from the Turks in the shoulder. He'd raged, cursed, and destroyed everything he could.

Aeris finally managed to get him to listen. She got all of them to listen. Apparently they had been brought back to life conditionally. That was why they were being thrown from world to world. The only way to stabilize it was to stabilize themselves – to become good and balanced.

She was a Cetra. She'd summoned Holy to stop him from calling Meteor. She could speak with the Planet. Part of him said to trust her. She'd know about this kind of thing. Part of him – the more logical part – said that she was just stringing them along, trying to manipulate them into behaving according to what she deemed "right."

The problem was that he couldn't chance it.

That's why he'd agreed to babysit when the child's father realized his wife was off the tropical island during Blitz training camp. So instead of taking the child to the beach, it'd been left in the village with Sephiroth of all people. He still couldn't believe he'd agreed to it.

And he would be damned if he was quitting now. He picked the baby up, careful with its head. Again, it paused in its crying. "Go away, Genesis." He didn't want anyone here if he failed and accidentally killed the thing.

The shorter man laughed. "Right, and let you deal with this on your own?"

Sephiroth moved the baby closer, trying to remember everything he could about babies. Did one shake them to make them quiet? He could remember some of the Angeal fanclub women with children darting around their legs, peeking from behind their mamas at the SOLDIER. Had any of them had a child as young as this one?

He couldn't remember. He couldn't remember being as young as this child. The child in his arms was squirming now, drawing air into its lungs for the next bout of screaming. Sephiroth pulled it closer, cradling it awkwardly.

Genesis started to laugh harder.

Sephiroth longed to run his old friend through with masamune. But fighting while babysitting didn't seem wise. He fixed Genesis with a murderous look instead. "You couldn't do better."

Genesis sobered, brushing his auburn hair away from his face. "Perhaps, old friend, perhaps. But that is the difference, isn't it? I do not have to do better because I'm not the one babysitting."

"No one would entrust you with a child," Sephiroth countered.

"No one should have entrusted you with a child," Genesis said.

Sephiroth agreed, but didn't say anything. The baby continued crying. Genesis strolled out of the tent without a word, his red leather coat snapping smartly in a stiff tropical breeze. Sephiroth followed him out of the hut, suddenly unwilling to be alone with the child.

Outside the village of Besaid was nothing more than a cluster of light wood and colored tarps. Some tents were bigger, some smaller. All of them were open, some with colored drapes covering the doors. The air smelled sweet from the blooming tropical trees, but Sephiroth's sensitive nose could pick up the salt from the not-so-distant beach. Everything was golden yellow and lush green.

It was nothing like Midgar.

It was also deserted. The townspeople had split into two. The majority were down at the beach with Wakka, the child's father. He was having a major blitzball training camp. Children from the village – and neighboring island towns had traveled special for it. The rest had gone on the SS Eternal Calm to some other city for shopping. That where the baby's mother was.

The baby had quieted upon getting outside and was now twisting in Sephiroth's arms, trying to see everything.

Genesis was heading toward a large stone temple in the middle of the town. He opened the doors, peering in.

"Anything interesting?"

"Statues and darkness," Genesis responded. "It doesn't look like the people go this way often."

Sephiroth was silent. The temple didn't have the grandeur of the Temple of the Ancients, but he could almost swear that the ground itself was thrumming with fading power. "These people – this place. It's nothing like Midgar."

"Filthy Midgar," Genesis said. "You're right. This place reminds me of Banora."

"Your hometown?"

"Mmm."

"There were children in your hometown," Sephiroth said.

"Yes, but I didn't babysit them. Childrearing is for mothers." He glanced at Sephiroth, eyes suddenly sparkling. "And speaking of mothers –"

"I will cut you," Sephiroth hissed.

"Did you ever look at Jenova? I mean, really look at her? She was a gooey, ugly, alien bitch. How could you think she was your mother?"

"She is my mother."

Genesis laughed.

Sephiroth switched the baby to his left arm and drew masamune, leveling it at his old friend.

"We all have Jenova cells – Angeal, Zack, me, you. That creature isn't your mother, idiot. She gave you genetic materials for certain, but your mother was most likely some stuck up ShinRa scientist. Or maybe your mother, like mine –" Genesis jerked his rapier free, blocking Sephiroth's first blow. "Maybe your mother was some rotten, traitorous bitch willing to experiment on you not for the science of it but for nothing more than a few gil." He leapt clear of Sephiroth, landing atop the temple.

Sephiroth sprang into the air, slashing rapidly down with his sword. The edge of it cleaved through the stone like it was water. "Do not speak about –"

"I'll say what I want."

"Then you'll die."

"Haven't I already?"

"You'll die again." Sephiroth attacked again, this time throwing a whirlwind of attacks at the redhead. He was just starting to fall into the rhythm of fighting with the baby in his arm, when the thing started making an upset, gurgling noise, and then . . . something warm and liquid hit Sephiroth's hand.

Blood? Had he killed the child?

He looked down. The baby looked up at him, slightly green in the face. White bubbles of curdled milk were at the corner of his mouth and trailed down to Sephiroth's black sleeves and onto his hand. Sephiroth looked back toward Genesis and discovered the man had vanished at the distraction. He looked back at the baby. It started crying again, this time the force of its wails sending white spit into Sephiroth's face.

He wiped his face, bouncing the child a bit. It threw up again. Sephiroth barely managed to get it away from him.

He didn't hear the woman approaching him until she spoke. "Wakka has you babysitting?"

Teeth gritted, Sephiroth turned to face the locale. The woman standing before him was wearing almost all black. Her skirt was full, and the front was an intricate weave of silver buckles and black leather straps. Her bodice as cinched tight at her waist. A ring of fur was around the top of the dress, which was hanging rather low.

Sephiroth met her crimson eyes quickly. "I am the babysitter," he said with as much dignity as he could manage.

The woman covered her mouth, stifling a smile. "Have you ever babysat before?"

He wanted to respond by snapping his wing from wherever it was inside him and then flying away. That would show her for sneaking up on him. Instead he just glowered.

"He needs to be fed."

"Fed?"

"He needs to eat."

Sephiroth opened his mouth and then closed it. No way could he feed a baby. He was going to have to return it to the father. But wait, how was going to feed the baby at the beach? None of the women looked like they were breastfeeding kids. They were all wearing skimpy clothes and giggling at Zack and Genesis and Angeal.

"Come on," the woman said. She strolled across the courtyard. If she noticed the long gouges in the ancient stone she didn't say anything. She entered Wakka's tent and gathered some ingredients from a chest. Within minutes, she had a bottle of warm formula in hand. "You'll have to test it against your skin. If it's too hot, he'll burn his mouth."

Sephiroth took the bottle, following her instructions. He suspected that the milk wasn't too hot. The woman had prepared it skillfully and appeared to know what she was doing. Maybe she was the usual sitter.

"You should clean his mouth," she said, handing him a white cloth. Then sit there and hold him in the crook of your arm. You can give him the bottle. He's old enough to support it himself, but you should make sure it is steady."

He followed her orders. The baby seized the bottle with both hands and his feet and started sucking hungrily. It looked happy again. Sephiroth ignored whatever feeling crept through him. It felt like a stupid, happy feeling that Cloud would probably have.

The woman brushed her black hair away from her face, but it quickly fell back across one eye. "What is your name?"

"Sephiroth."

"Well, Sephiroth, the hardest thing about a child is the need. A baby needs support at all times – physical, such as you're giving now, and emotional too. Love and affection. The more the better. But it must be balanced."

"Or what? The child will try and destroy the Planet?" Sephiroth sneered. "What if the child doesn't have a mother or father?" Or what if his mother was an ancient alien invader and his father a mad scientist more than willing to experiment on a baby before it was born?

She eyed him quietly. "I am an orphan," she said finally. "My father . . . hurt my mother all the time. When Sin attacked our village, we all hid in the Temple of the Fayth. I could see chaos outside, fiends everywhere. The temple guards fired a multiplicity of spells, doing everything possible to divert the destruction. The wind was intense. My mother stood up and walked into that storm, head held high. She never looked back."

"To defend you?" Sephiroth asked.

The woman shook her head. "For herself. She didn't want what she had anymore, I suppose. My father died trying to flee Sin. He had seen the attack coming and instead of coming to warn anyone, he looked out for himself."

"What's the point?"

The woman stood up. "The point is that a child without a mother or a father – or with parents that abandon them – is not going to try and destroy everything. That's an individual choice. Every choice you make is your own."

The baby stopped eating, and glanced at the woman. "Momma," he said, holding his arms toward her.

The woman smiled.

"You're his mother?"

"Yes."

"I was told that you were in Luca."

"I remembered Wakka's training camp. He's never been able to plan things that far in advance. So I came back for Vidina."

"The baby."

She nodded. "Yes."

"How long have you been watching me?"

"I saw your fight with the redhead boy."

"And?"

"That's all."

"You heard what he said about . . . my mother?"

She nodded. "Yes."

"What do you think about that?"

She took the child from his arms. "There are lots of orphans in Spira. Each one must come to terms with the death or abandonment by his or her own parents. I can't tell you how you should act or feel." As she spoke she wrapped Vidina into a bundle of colored cloth and then, once he was secure, she locked eyes with him again. "We're going to the beach. You can come with us." She left without waiting for his reply.

He followed, listening to the clink of her buckles and the gurgling of her baby. He didn't say anything until they were almost at the beach, then he stopped. "I recently lost my mother."

"Do you miss her?"

"No."

"Then don't force yourself to grieve. You don't have to love your mother. That is something she must earn."

"I want to avenge her death. To kill those that hurt her. To fulfill her dreams."

"You can do that if you want," she said. "But here's the real question: what are your dreams? What do you want, Sephiroth? Where would you be? Who would you be if you could be anything?"

He didn't answer. Just silently followed her onto the beach, long hair billowing in the tropical breeze.

**Author's Note:** Sephiroth is another hard character for me to write. I think he's just shy of insane, but he's also brilliant. I imagine that Jenova has been an influence on his life from very early, and I wanted to show how he's dealing with her absence now. Let me know what you think.


End file.
